


On the Day I Die

by angellwings



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: Confessions, Danger, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Short One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29069997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: She tries to turn her head and whimpers. The motion causes her muscles to ache, but she can do it. She wiggles her feet and kicks her legs. No neck or spinal injuries. That’s good. That’s very good.Her brain feels like it’s been shaken up in her skull. Once it stops rattling her mind seems to anchor itself to the present again and the memories come flooding back.Matt had said beautiful, wonderful words. She’d opened her mouth to reply and the bells went off. A solo call for 61. Man down. Her reply would have to wait — not that she knew what she would have said.The house at the address they visited looked dodgy, but there was no red x on the outside and the doors and windows weren’t boarded up. She and Mackey had barely given it a second thought before heading inside.
Relationships: Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 29
Kudos: 159





	On the Day I Die

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Here we are with yet another Prompt fic lol. Hope you guys aren’t tired of me yet! This prompt was: “Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> xoxo

_******_

_“On the day I die, I want nothing left unspoken,_

_I can’t rely on hoping that you know,_

_So dry your eyes,_

_Cause I don’t plan on dying yet.”_

_“On the Day I Die” by The Shires_

******

_“I love you, Sylvie. And I love you because of who you are. I don’t love someone else or love you because I can’t have someone else—“_

What is that? Is that someone speaking? No, that can’t be it. She’s alone. She doesn’t remember how she knows she’s alone. She just knows she is.

_“I love you and your ability to always give people the benefit of the doubt, the way you twist your watchband when you’re nervous, the fact that you put that picture of you and Amelia up everywhere.”_

A little soggy laugh plays through her memory after those words, making her smile and then wince. Ow. What the hell? Where is she? And what is she remembering?

_“My feelings are about you and me and not my past. I know that with a hundred percent certainty.”_

There’s a flutter in her chest as if those words are some long lost part of her she never knew she was missing. The slide into place in her heart. She had no idea where she is or why the world seems upside down, but those words make sense. Even when nothing else does.

_“I’m a little slow on the uptake and it took me too long to see it, but for the first time in my whole damn life I’m not moving on and I’m not letting go. Not when it comes to you.”_

Matt. That’s who said those words. _Matt._

But when did he say them? And why doesn’t she remember how she replied? She did reply, didn’t she?

Oh, god. No. No, she hadn’t. They’d gotten a call and then—

She winces again and forces herself to open her eyes. There’s splintered wood and a gaping hole about six feet above her, giving her a view of a very high ceiling through the shattered planks. She feels a cold firm surface beneath her. Not concrete, it’s softer than that. 

She tries to turn her head and whimpers. The motion causes her muscles to ache, but she can do it. She wiggles her feet and kicks her legs. No neck or spinal injuries. That’s good. That’s very good.

Her brain feels like it’s been shaken up in her skull. Once it stops rattling her mind seems to anchor itself to the present again and the memories come flooding back.

Matt had said beautiful, wonderful words. She’d opened her mouth to reply and the bells went off. A solo call for 61. Man down. Her reply would have to wait — not that she knew what she would have said.

The house at the address they visited looked dodgy, but there was no red x on the outside and the doors and windows weren’t boarded up. She and Mackey had barely given it a second thought before heading inside. 

But then the floor started to give underneath her and she knew exactly what was about to happen. She pushed Mackey out the front door a second before the wood snapped.

After that, the world went black.

“Sylvie!”

Is that more of her memory? It doesn’t sound as distant as her memory had.

“Sylvie! Call out!”

The fear and desperation in his voice tell her it _isn’t_ a memory.

“Matt! Down here!” She yells. “The floor collapsed! Be careful!” Through the latex of her gloves she thinks she feels dirt. “I think I’m in a crawlspace or a cellar or something!”

“Chief, I’ve got her. The house is structurally unstable. Don’t send anyone in. If we’re gonna get Brett out I need a location on a crawlspace entrance or a cellar door.”

_“Copy that. Keep a close eye on her while we search the premises.”_

“I’m okay!” She calls up to him, beating him to the punch. She can’t see him. He’s probably standing on the porch just beyond the threshold.

“You always say that,” Matt replies with a scoff.

“Really, I’m fine!”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that this time. Any injuries?” He sounds concerned and a little frustrated. It brings a fond smile to her face.

“I can move my neck and legs and I’m not feeling nauseous so I’m guessing no concussion or spinal and neck injuries,” she answers.

_“Captain, we’ve got a cellar door on the right side of the house. It’s padlocked and chained.”_

Kidd.

“I’m on my way.” A pause and then. “Sit tight, Sylvie. I’m coming to you. I know you think you’re fine, but do me a favor and try not to move.”

She rolls her eyes but agrees. “Copy that.”

She hears his footsteps walking away from her and sighs anxiously. She just wants to get out of here so they can finish their conversation. She wants a chance to say her piece!

While she waits for them she starts to feel woozy and lightheaded. She tenses as soon as the feeling settles over her. That can only mean one thing. She runs her hands over her body until she finds a growing wet spot on her shirt. The liquid is warm and thick.

 _Shit_.

She reaches up and for the radio on her shoulder and presses the talk button. “Chief, this is Brett. If you’ve got eyes on Mackey tell her 81’s gonna need trauma dressing.”

 _“What happened to fine?”_ Casey shouts into the radio, renewed urgency in his voice. _“I’m through the locks and chains, Chief. Kidd’s got the jump bag. She’s going in with me.”_

_“Copy that. Be careful in there.”_

She hears the obnoxious squeak of rusty hinges and then quick feet shuffling over the dirt floors. Casey’s next to her impossibly fast.

“Is that blood?” He asks with a shaky breath as he and Kidd crouch on either side of her. She feels him tugging the hem of her shirt upward. His pallor pales considerably once he gets a good look at the wound.

That’s not a good sign.

She hasn’t seen the wound yet, but she doesn’t need to. She can feel how much blood she’s losing. It’s a lot. If she loses consciousness there’s a chance she might not—

They never got to finish their conversation. She _has_ to tell him.

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is—“

“You are literally bleeding,” he huffs, cutting her off. “I don’t think now is the time. Focus on staying awake, Sylvie. We can talk later.”

Kidd grabs the trauma dressings, gauze, and scissors and moves to Casey’s side. Shoving him closer to Sylvie’s head and shoulders.

“You don’t know that. Neither of us do, but I do know you deserve to know how I feel. I _need_ to tell you, Matt.”

“You said you were fine,” he says with a voice full of disbelief and eyes full of tears.

“I thought I was,” she replies sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” he orders while his hands brush her hair out of her face. “Don’t apologize.”

“No, I—I’m sorry for pushing you away. I felt like I had to but I see now I didn’t. I should’ve let you talk—“

“Sylvie, I promise you that doesn’t matter. I never blamed you for asking for space. My head was a mess. It wasn’t on you to help me sort it out. I needed to work that out for myself. You did the right thing for you. I understand,” he assures her, his hand gently cupping the side of her face.

“This is gonna hurt,” Kidd warns her apologetically a moment before she starts packing the gash in her side.

Fuck! She yells out and grips Matt’s arms in a vice like hold. The pain lingers long after Stella finishes. Honestly, Sylvie’s surprised she’s still conscious.

Matt yanks off his helmet and presses his forehead to hers as Stella wraps gauze around her midsection.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he tells her with convincing certainty despite how red and raw his eyes are. “And once we get you out of here, we can have this conversation.”

Kidd leans into her radio and asks for a backboard before she gingerly squeezes Sylvie’s thigh. “He’s right. You’re too tough to be taken out by a little old cut. Trust me, girl. You’ve got this.”

Matt swipes a thumb under her tears and places a lingering kiss on her forehead. “Let’s get you to Med. we can sort the rest out later.”

She grabs onto his shoulders to keep him from pulling away, tugging him closer until her lips brush the shell of his ear.

“I love you too, Matt Casey,” she whispers. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I love you too and I never want you to give me space ever again. Okay?”

He turns his head, quickly kissing the hinge of her jaw, and nods. “Trust me, space isn’t going to be a problem. You’re stuck with me now — for the foreseeable future.”

Gallo and Mouch appear with the backboard as Matt pulls away. He puts his helmet back on his head, his Captain’s demeanor returning as he does.

“Chief, we’re coming out.” He says into his radio. “Get an ambo ready to roll.”


End file.
